Going Out Of Style
by Prisoner-of-Conscience
Summary: Steve Rogers feels insignificant-the world has bigger and better heroes now. Though missions with the team sometimes reenforce that notion, they can disprove it too. Steve whump and team support.


"You know I really expected your rock-hard, washboard abs to at least cushion that blaster shot just a little better" Tony rambled. A lot. I tried finding some fault with him, hoping to poke at his pressure points, but the man really _was_ made of Iron—well…today he was, anyway.

"Guess I was just a little slow on the rebound…"

"Aww guys…don't hurt his feelings. We all know fossils can be very fragile." Nat's remark caught me a little off-guard. I gave her a sideways glance but she just gave her half-smile response; I knew she meant well.

"It was my impression that the Captain fought bravely and swiftly for the first few hours…" Thor had kinda been the one guy who didn't try to beat around the bush with me so it felt nice for him to come to my defense, "before understandably succumbing to the woes of fatigue and lacking coordination."

"Thank you, yes, let's discuss my aging body and general lack-of-know-how, shall we?"

"We're just teasing, Cap." Clint didn't add any color to his comment but I knew he wanted to. They all wanted to. Hell, _I_ wanted to. I looked like a dancing monkey on a ball, trying to keep my footing on the hover-board while balancing my shied; my USO Tour kick-lines were more graceful.

The team settled on the main floor after showers and changes of clothes had been had but I debated wandering down there myself. I still felt the numbness in my hands from the recoil of the blaster Tony had given me and the pain in my side from the blue shot of light hadn't ebbed much. I wasn't in a lot of pain but my injuries and my worn pride made me feel like a coat rack: the first few jackets are fine but too many and you risk toppling over. My side and my hands and the scratch above my eyebrow, I could handle. My fraying pride though…what was I supposed to do with that? Not wallow in it. I rode the elevator to the fifth floor and the doors opened to display Tony playing bartender. Terrific. Just what I needed. My team, drinking…getting drunk…and me…remaining sober. Sometimes I really do think Dr. Erksin musta hated me just a little. I smiled at my own thoughts and wandered to the bar.

"You doing okay, Cap?" Nat was the first to check in.

"I'll be alright. If I start fading you can always put me on ice."

"A joke? Was that an actual sentence containing humor? I'm sorry, Bruce can you check my hearing? I really think I need a doctor's opinion here."

"Why are you like this? I have PhD's, Tony…" Bruce sat quietly at the edge of the bar and looked on at us with such confusion and disappointment I actually chuckled.

"So, Cap? Waddya want? Cosmopolitan? Lemon Drop?…Old Fashioned?"

"Manhattan, actually"

"Alright, Old-School" Tony set about awkwardly pulling bottles from under the counter and turning on his heels to reach a glass and scoop ice. Not that I had spent a lot of time drinking back in the day, but there was something to the mood of the room that made me feel comfortable—a feeling I can't say I'm very intimate with. Tony slid me a drink and all of us started talking about arbitrary things, just things to talk about for the sake of talking, and I felt my shoulders hunch forward and my back slouch and the burning in my side begin to fade.

() () () () () ()

"ROGERS! LEFT PANEL, RIGHT SWITCH" My gloved hands fumbled to find the handle on the panel but I yanked it off its hinges easily once I found it.

"Clint what am I looking at?" I spoke at normal volume, trying to remind myself that the earpiece could pick up my voice just fine and Clint was only yelling because he was busy on the rooftop. "The RALF switch, flip it." My eyes scanned the coding under the various buttons and handles and whatnot, but nothing said RALF and I didn't have time to wait and figure it out.

"Which one, Clint?"

"I can't…" Garbled sounds filled my ear as Clint became focused on the attack and I knew I had to flip the right switch so I couldn't take any risks.

"Tony? What does a RALF switch look like?" I stood up from my crouched position, as if that was gonna help anything.

"It's _red,_ Rogers, with a little x on the panel." Tony spoke quickly but with so much disdain.

I flipped the switch.

() () () () () ()

"Did you really think you could jump that far?" Nat bent down and began touching the most breakable parts of the body; her hand felt my ribs and my right femur, my head and ankles…

"Hulk made the jump earlier, didn't look as far when he did it." I tried to sit up but ended up listing and instead landing on my injured side.

"Damn…"

"Is it bad, Steve? Do you need e-vac?"

"I-I'll be fine. I just need to…" I tried to finish my sentence but Nat's features started to blur and the last thing I heard was Tony's voice in my ear.

Waking up to a room with open windows and white ceilings and quiet sounds isn't exactly an experience I enjoy. I shifted on top of the sheets and felt my ribs grind together, I clenched my teeth and pushed myself to a sitting position, watching the room spin for a moment. I replayed the moment I decided to jump from the rooftop and cringed at my stupidity. A 1940's hero clearly didn't live up to the modern standards. I let my head hang as I held my side. Tall and strong and fast…for 1945. A Super Soldier…for 1945. A good man…well, maybe that one was still intact.

() () () () () ()

"The Quinjet's never gonna get us there, Tony. She's running out of fuel and I got no where to put her down." Clint reached his head gingerly over his shoulder to talk to his fellow doomed passengers. Nat peaked her head out from her seat and spoke to both Clint and the rest of us.

"There's a field about a mile ahead. If you can get us there then we can at least land."

"I'll give it a shot."

We waited in uncomfortable silence as Clint eased the broken jet to the ground and we all shifted forward as she touched down.

"Though it would be easy for me to desert you all here, I'd like to receive credit for staying." Thor purposely rubbed in his godly power and I even saw Tony crack a grin.

"I don't suppose the Big Guy could just, ya know, carry us back home?" Tony spoke as he lowered the gangplank.

"You're impossible, you know that? I'm running out of shirts, Tony."

"I told you I was working on something didn't I? It's in a prototype phase."

"Like my flaming arrows were? Before they blew up your lab?"

"Ahh yes, Stark. Or my new 'electric things' ? Is that what you called them? I've never seen you so articulate before."

"Oh and let's not forget the metabolism resistant pain medication that gave me hives…"

Even I joined in the Stark shaming. How could I pass up an opportunity like that?

"I'm gonna need those shirts someday and you are not helping me feel any better about putting something on my body that's Tony's." Bruce whined, endearingly, but Clint couldn't let the opportunity pass.

"On your body, Bruce? Or something of Stark's _in_ your body?"

"I hate you all. I do. I was far away from all of this, I was in Malaysia and you just…you had to make it dirty." Bruce wasn't mad, just defeated. We all laughed and continued on our midnight hike to nowhere.

We walked for a few hours, the temperature began to drop and we eventually sacrificed our pride and told Thor to tell S.H.I.E.L.D where our plane went down. We saw a collection of buildings in the distance and hoped for warmth if not a fully outfitted private jet. Well, that's what Stark wanted. I just wanted food, quite frankly.

We finally arrived but were "locked out" by the gate with a padlock.

"Captain?" Tony looked to me and I struck the lock with my shield and it fell unceremoniously to the ground. We wandered through the grounds and I recognized the buildings…but they weren't buildings. Well, they were buildings but that's not the word I wanted to use. They were _barracks._ But I felt uncomfortable—they weren't American, well not exactly American but not…not US military. I turned to my left where Tony had accidentally kicked a hatch on the ground and immediately recognized the foreign print. Tony spoke before he had a chance to.

"Nat, what's this say?"

"It says 'hail, HYDRA'."

"What?"

"This is an old HYDRA base."

I knew there wasn't much to be afraid of but the last time I was somewhere like this…the last time I was here it was the most appalling thing I've ever seen. I glanced back to the team's huddle and my brain half expected them to be in uniform. I guess it's been a while since I've been anywhere like this. I didn't trust my imagination or my memories so I decided instead, to focus on finding something useful.

"I'll see if I can break down some more doors…maybe we can find a way outta here."

I stalked away from the rest of the group but I heard Natasha's gentle footsteps trailing behind me.

"You doing okay there, Cap?"

"Fine."

"You looked like you were ready to pounce on us back there."

"Just don't exactly have fond memories here."

"I know it's weird to…"

"Weird doesn't begin to cover it."

"Steve." Natasha grabbed my arm and spun me to face her, the others were in the distance rummaging through an open shed. She looked up at me with pity. I hated pity.

"I'm fine, Nat. I know your worried but don't be. All of this," I referenced my surroundings broadly, "All of this was a long time ago."

"It was a long time ago for _us._ Not for you. For you this was three years ago, a few months ago, last week, maybe even last night. I don't think you're gonna break, Steve. That's not what I'm worried about."

"So what are you worried about?"

"You giving up."

I didn't need an explanation. I knew that Nat had seen my mask fall. She knew I didn't feel strong anymore. That I didn't feel smart, or fast, or helpful, or useful, or funny, or worth it. But that didn't mean I was giving up. It didn't. Because if I had one thing left, it was my dignity.

"I'm not giving up, Nat. I just miss the days when science's weirdest creation was me."

She accepted that answer and we went barrack to barrack breaking locks and looking around but nothing useful…everything had been cleared out. We met back up with the others and all headed to the last building. It was a large hanger, meant for three or four planes and we hoped something would be left. I smashed the padlocks one last time and Tony and I rolled open the hanger door. Jackpot.

"Dude that thing's older than Fury." Clint added but Bruce challenged,

"Fury's not…never mind. I give up. I learned my lesson earlier." Barton smiled mischievously.

"Well…looks like we found a ride home." Tony began walking towards the small ladder leading to the cockpit but my voice stopped him.

"STARK!" His head whipped around, his face concerned, as he saw my outstretched arms.

"HYDRA used to…they set trip wires on the ladders to the pilot's seat. We never got into a plane with a ladder already propped up."

I walked towards the plane and sure enough a small wire sat above the first rung.

"How do we undo it?" Barton asked.

"Carefully" I replied, just a little smug.

I unraveled the wire from the rung, being sure to keep the tension, and once I had it off the ladder I followed the small coil until I found it attached to an explosive on the plane's tail.

"Nat, bring my shield." She did as I asked and without much warning I ripped the bomb from the jet and trapped it under my shield to control the blast. When it went off, I went flying about five yards back but the plane was still intact.

"Brava. Let's just get home now." Clint eagerly climbed into the cockpit and Tony extended a hand to help me up.

"Nice going, Cap."

"Glad I'm useful for something."

I was the last one in the cabin but no one seemed ready to take off.

"Yeah so guys about this plane…"

"Barton…" Stark scolded.

"It's not my fault the thing's ancient. I never learned these controls. It's like playing Atari with a bazillion tons of flying metal."

"So…we're still trapped here. Oh this is wonderful, just great guys. So glad I let you drag me into this…" Bruce mumbled in the background but I gave a private smile.

"Steve…" Nat questioned me knowingly…I guess my private smile wasn't so private.

"Are you about to tell me something I don't know because customarily I don't like people doing that…" Tony stared at me puzzled.

"I'm just saying…I'm not left handed."

"Did Rogers just make a sex joke?" Tony looked even more puzzled than I did.

"What? No! How would that even be a sex joke…?" Nat chimed in.

"If he uses his left hand to—"

"Oh my GOD, Tony he was quoting the Princess Bride."

"Well I'm sorry if Mr. The-Wizard-Of-Oz-Was-The-Last-Movie-I-Saw-In-Theaters caught me off guard by making a movie reference…"

"So the next natural assumption is that he makes a joke about—"

"PLEASE!" I couldn't take them anymore. It was a miracle I lasted the two minutes that I did.

"I just mean I can fly the damn plane."

Everyone looked at me in shock and I was a little hurt at their lack of confidence, but mostly smug.

"You don't go through WWII without learning some party tricks." I smiled and took the pilot's seat.

"Party tricks…" Clint repeated.

"You know…" I let Nat continue as we went back and forth naming things.

"Stealing cars—"

"Finding trip wires…"

"Reading German maps…"

"Patching wounds…"

"Flying planes…"

"Using your left hand to—" Tony interjected.

"STARK!"

"Sorry! Just try not to crash this time, Capsicle." Tony hit me on the shoulder but I was smiling the whole flight home.


End file.
